


Baby, you could be the death of me

by sootandshadow



Category: DmC: Devil May Cry
Genre: Anal Sex, Incest, M/M, Minor exhibitionism kink, Twincest, boys being brats
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 07:50:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20111674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sootandshadow/pseuds/sootandshadow
Summary: Vergil’s watching him again; hell, so is half of his brother’s collection of computer-savvy staff, but they don’t warrant Dante’s attention the way Vergil does. A month ago, he would have sneered at anyone who stared at him like this, daring them to act on their unconcealed lust even as his demonic instincts prickled with a hostile wariness. He might have even taken a few of the braver folks to bed with him, to help scratch that itch for a little while.Now though? Now he has bigger fish to fry than the average drooling onlooker.





	Baby, you could be the death of me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Starkangejr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Starkangejr/gifts).

> This is my secret santa gift for a member of the spardacest discord server! Bless you for letting me write my favourite bratty duo from the reboot ♡

Vergil’s watching him again; hell, so is half of his brother’s collection of computer-savvy staff, but they don’t warrant Dante’s attention the way Vergil does. A month ago, he would have sneered at anyone who stared at him like this, daring them to act on their unconcealed lust even as his demonic instincts prickled with a hostile wariness. He might have even taken a few of the braver folks to bed with him, to help scratch that itch for a little while. 

Now though? Now he has bigger fish to fry than the average drooling onlooker. 

Dante does another push-up on his knuckles, not even bothering to bite back a cocky smirk as he hears a sharp inhale somewhere to his left. He’s well-aware of the picture he makes, wearing nothing but a pair of loose-fitting pants and his mother’s amulet, the faint sheen of sweat highlighting the play of the fluorescent light on his flexing muscles. Though his inhuman heritage certainly plays a role in his powerful physique, he’s not averse to putting in the work either — especially not when it has the added benefit of getting under his brother’s skin. Out of the corner of his eye, Dante watches the way Vergil’s gloved fingers tighten almost imperceptibly around his armrest when Dante does another push-up, and he makes sure to hold the next rep that little bit longer. 

It hadn’t started as a way to torment his brother. Truth be told, he’d started seriously working out again because there was absolutely fuck all to do in the Order Headquarters. He wants to be out fighting demons, wants to be throwing stones at Mundus’ highrise windows or messing with his devilish flunkies. But no, he has to _wait_, to keep a low profile while Vergil determines when and where will be the best place to strike. This kind of boring downtime could kill even a nephilim if Vergil wasn’t careful, and if his brother would just keep him entertained he wouldn't have to resort to such publicly indecent measures. 

The push-ups get boring fast, and so he changes tactics, testing the limits of his flexibility and working out any lingering kinks. Dante is in the middle of stretching out his shoulders in the most suggestive manner possible — arms outstretched, torso vertical as he brings his legs straight over his head to touch the floor with his feet, ass very much on display — when the room goes quiet. It hadn’t been loud before per se, but there’s a new hush, and it tickles at Dante’s hackles. Had he been anywhere else he would not have remained in such a compromising position, but he has a feeling he knows where the sudden threatening aura is originating from. 

Sure enough, Vergil’s boots click ominously against the stone floor until he comes to stand beside his brother, staring down at him with a carefully neutral expression. 

“Dante.”

His brother looks as composed as ever, but there’s a tightness to his voice that normally isn’t there, an edge that anyone else might mistake for restrained anger. But Dante isn’t just anyone, and all it takes is a slow, quiet inhale through his nose to prove Dante’s instincts right. There’s a definite muskiness to Vergil’s scent, a heady smell of burgeoning arousal, and it makes Dante want to bury his face in the hollow of Vergil’s throat and taste it on his skin. He settles instead for giving Vergil his best winning smile. 

“Need something?”

Dante can’t see his brother very well from this position, not with his thighs in the way, and he very much wants to savour his front row seat to Vergil’s attempts to keep his cool. With an overexaggerated groan, he stretches his arms out and then rolls over his head and up onto his feet. For a heartbeat he just crouches there, head suspiciously close to Vergil’s crotch, before he stands all the way up with feigned disinterest. 

Vergil’s hands are clenched tightly into fists at his side, his nostrils flared, but his expression doesn't change. “A word. If you wouldn’t mind.” He jerks his head in a direction away from their audience.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you want.” 

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Dante saunters after him, making sure to wink at one of the techies still watching him just to make her flush. Hell yeah, he still has it. 

Vergil pays his antics no notice and leads him away from the central computer hub and deeper into the base, bypassing all the usual alleyways and alcoves he usually likes to take Dante — or let Dante take him. Dante can’t help but stare a little wistfully as they pass by one particular dead end where he has some rather fond memories of eating Vergil out on hands and knees until his brother had clamped down around his tongue and come untouched. He has half a mind to steer Vergil back there again and see what new sounds he can coax from his brother’s lips, but the straightness of Vergil’s back suggests he will not be so easily distracted. 

Spoilsport. 

They don’t end up going far, Vergil stopping and then forcibly ushering Dante into a room that he only belated recognizes as one of the secondary bathrooms. It’s a tiny space, with two stalls and a single sink, but it’s clean and, honestly, Dante’s done worse things in worse places. Behind him, he hears Vergil lock the door, the grating, metallic sound echoing against the tiles, and Dante feels a smirk curling at the corners of his mouth. Maybe his brother does have a bit of taste after all. The acoustics in here are going to be _fantastic_. 

He lets Vergil crowd him into one of the stalls, the loud _bang_ of the stall door ricocheting off the wall a minor distraction in the wake of his brother’s mouth against his own, hot and demanding. Like this, keyed up from more than an hour of Dante’s intentional teasing, there is nothing nice or gentle about Vergil’s touches. His kisses are tinged with a violent edge that makes Dante’s devil blood sing, and Dante doesn’t hesitate to return the viciousness with his own. He tastes blood, eagerly laps it up, digs his thumbs into the bones of Vergil’s hips so he has more leverage to grind his cock against the answering hardness between Vergil’s legs. The noise his brother makes is sweet, sweet music to Dante’s ears and he pushes his advantage, rutting their still-clothed erections against each other as he fucks Vergil’s mouth open with his tongue. 

Vergil won’t last like this. He knows it like he knows his own strength, like he knows Vergil is the only other person on his planet who can handle him without breaking. His brother may be a quick learner, but Vergil is woefully inexperienced in comparison to Dante when it comes to anything sexual. For all that he starts their encounters strong, it’s easy to throw him off, to take control of the play of their tongues and the press of their mouths until Vergil can’t keep up. Dante can always tell when he has his brother on the ropes, can practically smell the need rolling off of him in waves, and every tiny sound that slips through the seal of their lips only fans the flames burning in Dante’s loins. 

Sure enough, Vergil reaches his limit and jerks out of his hold with a gasp, panting heavily as he leans heavily against the stall door. His lips are flushed a deep pink, mouth smeared with faint traces of blood, already debauched in a way that makes Dante groan through his teeth. Fuck, his brother is _gorgeous_ like this, and if Vergil isn’t careful, one day Dante is going to eat him up. 

The sound makes Vergil jerk in surprise, eyes going wide, before he bites his lip like he’s trying to get a hold of himself. “You—” he starts, fumbling with the button and fly of his trousers in an effort to free his cock, hands trembling ever so slightly. 

“Me,” Dante agrees, smugness rich and warm in his veins as he soaks in his brother’s desperation. It’s a good look on him, but he’s about to show Dante something even better. As Vergil eases his cock through the slit of his boxers with a choked sigh of relief, Dante’s gaze is instantly drawn to the flushed, slick head. His mouth waters without his permission and he reaches for it with both hands. Vergil doesn’t let him touch, though, batting his hands away and grabbing for Dante’s shoulders. 

There’s some shuffling around, bodies pressing and sliding against each other in a cramped space, until Vergil locks the wobbly stall door and shoves Dante against it. The moment he has Dante where he wants him he picks up where they left off, kissing the smirk off Dante’s lips as he slides his palms down Dante’s bare flanks. Dante’s not sure if it’s the cold of the door against his back or the touch that makes him shiver, but he arches into Vergil’s hands, shamelessly encouraging. 

When he feels Vergil go for the waistband of his pants, Dante stills him with a hand around his wrist, unable to resist the temptation to waggle his eyebrows when Vergil gives him an irritated look. His little brother has never liked being interrupted, but Dante is pretty sure that he’ll appreciate it this time. 

“Present for you in my pocket,” he breathes, only to choke on a moan when Vergil slides one hand between them to wrap his fingers around the shape of Dante’s cock. Vergil grips him like he holds the hilt of his sword: firm and sure and with incredible purpose. It makes him hot all the way to his core, even if Vergil’s slowly growing smirk makes him want to punch something. His brother can be a real ass sometimes. 

“Not my dick, you— in the _pocket_.” Despite his words, Dante bucks up into the touch, chasing the sparks of pleasure that sizzle along his nerves at the friction, and reaches a hand back to find the little packet of lube he knows is there. Out of spite, he chucks it at his brother’s head, watching as Vergil lets go of him to catch it with both hands. Vergil studies the packet briefly, and Dante can’t help but swallow at the way the sight of it makes his brother’s eyes darken. Perfect. 

Vergil’s attention is back on him in an instant, and he resumes his invasion of Dante’s space like he has every right to be there. “Off,” he insists, tugging on the top of Dante’s pants as he brings the packet to his mouth and rips it open with his teeth. 

“You sure are bossy today.” The complaint is perfunctory at best, especially when paired with the way Dante shucks his pants off and steps out of them. “You got something to prove or—” 

Dante very nearly yelps as Vergil roughly grabs the underside of his thigh and spreads his legs just enough to make room for his now-slick fingers. He barely has time to find his balance before Vergil’s questing fingers find their mark, two of them pressing insistently past the tight ring of muscle at his entrance. Dante’s hands instinctively move up over his head, nails skating uselessly off the door as he moans loud enough to make Vergil shiver. 

It’s _good_, even if his brother has left those god-forsaken gloves of his on, the combination of lubricant and latex smoothing out every thrust. Vergil has remarkably deft fingers — probably from all that typing or whatever the fuck he does on those computers — and he’s never had any hesitation when it comes to using those fingers to drive Dante wild. He’s being especially rough now, though, clearly not in the mood to go slow, and Dante has no complaints about that either, riding the fading burn of the stretch as best he can. 

Too soon, Vergil is drawing his hand away, fingers slipping free with a filthy noise. He surveys Dante for a brief moment, and Dante lets him look with his typical muleish sulk, disliking the lull. Had he known what Vergil was going to ask him to do next, he might not have been quite so sullen about the interruption. 

"Since you're so keen on proving your fitness to the entire Order…Up."

Vergil hooks his arm more firmly under Dante's knee and lifts, hoisting it up as Dante struggles to get with the program. For all that Vergil is more than capable of lifting him up, his brother seems pretty intent on making Dante do all the work this time, only barely contributing to their change in position. Dante’s fingers scramble briefly for better purchase until he clasps them firmly around the top of the door, gripping tightly in an effort to support his own weight. 

Spread open like this, practically dangling from the stall door, Dante can already feel the beginnings of the burn in his arms. He screws up his face in concentration, and Vergil allows him to wrap one leg around his brother's hip— a small mercy in an otherwise precarious position. It makes Dante bare his teeth in a facsimile of a smile, determined to see this through even as he feels Vergil's gloved fingers return to trace the puckered rim of his slick hole. Bastard. 

"Now _stay_," Vergil instructs, and Dante's about to tell him where to shove that commanding attitude when he feels Vergil's fingers being replaced by something else, something blunt and thick and decidedly not covered in rubber. _Fuck yeah_, it’s about time, and Dante struggles to both keep his position and stay relaxed as Vergil eases his cock into him in short, jerky strokes. It’s a feeling he’ll never tire of, this building, aching fullness that makes his toes curl and arcs pleasure up the base of his spine. He knows he’s groaning low, breathy encouragements, but for some reason that doesn’t seem to do anything to hurry his brother along. Antsy, Dante squirms, and realizes his mistake too late. 

His arms jerk, threatening to buckle, and the lapse in his strength causes Dante to drop down onto the final inch on his brother’s dick, his moan and Vergil’s echoing in the empty bathroom. Dante’s vaguely aware of the plethora of curses leaving his lips as he bangs his head against the stall door, lacking the leverage to do anything but squirm as his body spasms around the sudden intrusion. Like this, Vergil’s cock feels like it’s twice its size — like it needs to be any bigger, _fuck_ — and Dante struggles to catch his breath. His only consolation is that Vergil seems to be equally as compromised, his brother’s fingers digging perfectly shaped bruises into his thigh. 

“Go on then,” Vergil goads when he’s not desperate for air, and Dante blinks the sweat out of his eyes to stare blankly at him. His brother’s mouth curves into a positively devious smile, “You’re the one who’s been so invested in your fitness, Dante. Let’s see the results of your hard work.” 

He can’t be serious ...except, maybe he _is_, because normally the moment Vergil’s all the way inside him he takes it as implicit permission to fuck Dante into the next week. This time, though, he’s just waiting there, free hand back to idly tracing the place where they’re joined, the sensation enough to make Dante arch away again. Even as his arm muscles protest the strain, the tightening of his abs only serves to remind him of the heft of his brother’s cock buried inside him, rubbing teasingly against his prostate as he twists. Every movement only heightens the sensation, and Dante is torn between staying where he is and trying to move, heat surging through him as his cock bobs between his legs. 

Vergil, the asshole, just watches him struggle for a few moments before he says, “Hmm, I guess if you can’t do it—”

“_Shut the fuck up_,” Dante seethes through gritted teeth, and the metal of the door creaks with the tightness of his grip. He can do this, if only to prove his brother wrong, but goddamnit, it’s _hard_. 

Fortunately, that’s never been enough to stop him before. 

Fueled almost entirely by spite, he arches his back and gets to work, struggling to find any semblance of a rhythm in his jerky, uncoordinated movements. The angle is strange, and the arm position does him no favours, but he manages to get something going in between his moans and unfiltered swearing, lifting himself up and dropping himself back down on Vergil’s cock. The flex of his core makes it impossible to ignore the feeling of Vergil inside of him, makes every thrust feel that much deeper, driving into him in uneven strokes. Try as he might, he can’t maintain anything consistently, every slow movement only exacerbating the drag of Vergil’s dick while every slip up just forces him down further onto Vergil in a white hot burst of pleasure. He can do nothing to prepare himself for this kind of unpredictability, and it’s frustrating and agonizing and yet so fucking _good_. 

(Vergil is a _devil_, and he’s going to be the death of Dante.) 

Dante groans his brother’s name like a curse, not quite begging but dangerously close to it, so close he can taste it but the angle is all wrong. Like this he’s trapped, unable to touch himself without risking his position and just as stuck when it comes to pursuing his own pleasure. Dante needs Vergil to do _something_, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it, and his brother has to know it. 

(Oh he knows alright.)

“Yes, brother?” Vergil whispers into his ear, the exhale of his breath against Dante’s skin making him shiver, and Dante wishes he had both his hands available so he didn’t have to play so nicely. He settles on the next best thing, flexing his abs so he can rut his cock against Vergil’s sweater, and growls, 

“Fuck me like you’ve been dying to all morning.” 

He hears Vergil’s breath catch, feels the way his hips jerk inadvertently at the vulgar words. Dante presses his advantage, draws Vergil even close to him with the leg wrapped around his waist. “They were looking at me all morning, you know. Watching me work out. Thinking about what I look like doing more than just a few push-ups. You want them all to know who I belong to, don’t you?” 

For a single heartbeat Dante thinks his brother is going to hold out a little longer, but then Vergil’s mouth is on his and his hands are gripping Dante’s hips, holding him steady while he drives up into him. After the inconsistent pleasure from earlier the steady, powerful thrusts are everything he needs, veritable gasoline on the flames of his desire. He can already feel the tension coling low in his gut, a taut, thrumming cord that only spools tighter with every roll of Vergil’s hips. 

When he can’t focus enough to keep kissing him, Dante wraps his trembling arms around Vergil’s neck and tips his head back, baring his throat to his brother’s teeth as he lets his wanton noises echo shamelessly off the walls. He hopes he’s being loud enough that the geeks can hear, hopes — however irrationally — that they’re listening in to the absolutely filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin and the way Dante moans with every thrust. “Harder,” he gasps, when Vergil rolls his cock against that soft spot inside of him that sends fire burning through his belly. “C’mon, Vergil, _more_, fuck—”

The door is not going to be able to take much more of this, but Vergil doesn’t seem to care, determined to give Dante everything he’s asking for. Truth be told, Dante doesn’t give a single fuck what they ruin, so long as Vergil keeps doing what he’s doing. He feels like his head is full of cotton wool, thoughts sluggish and stuttered every time Vergil’s cock seems to fuck him impossibly deeper. Even through the delicious red haze of his own desire, he knows he wants more, but lacks the breath to voice his desires. 

Acting on impulse, he manages to wedge a hand between their bodies to wrap it around his neglected erection, groans through his teeth at the sensation, and that’s it, that’s the missing piece of a perfect circuit. There’s no reason to hold back, not when Vergil keeps fucking him like he intends to ruin Dante for everyone else. The thought alone is enough to make his cock throb in his hand, blood roaring in his ears, and Dante wouldn’t stop the explosive culmination of his pleasure even if he could. 

Instead, he revels in the added wetness between them, encouraging Vergil to keep fucking him through his orgasm with little jerks of his hips even as his body clamps down on his brother’s dick, oversensitive and trembling. It’s not enough, though, not even as Vergil’s every thrust sears both pleasure and pain across his every nerve. Dante still feels ravenous, perhaps an echo of his brother’s own hunger, and he knows just the thing to satisfy it. 

“Inside, Verge,” he croons against Vergil’s ear, already feeling the telltale stutter in his brother’s rhythm that means he’s close. “Put me away wet.” 

The almost whimpering noise his brother makes is _exquisite_, and Dante luxuriates in the way Vergil’s hands grip him even tighter, blunt nails digging in fresh bruises as his brother presses in as deep as he can and _shudders_. Absently, Dante strokes the mess of silver hair, coasting on the lingering tendrils of their shared orgasm, and feels Vergil’s lips press almost gently against his throat. 

When they’ve both managed to catch their breath, Vergil reluctantly sets him down on wobbly legs, and Dante takes a moment to gather himself. As much as he enjoys the lingering aches of a good workout, there’s something that much more satisfying about the lingering aches of a good _fuck_. It’s such a pity his brother can’t give it to him whenever and wherever he wants it. A little reluctantly, he pulls his pants up and turns to watch, with thinly veiled amusement Vergil make an effort to clean himself up. No shot on that one, little brother. That’s what you get for wearing so many layers. 

With a contented sigh, Dante stretches his arms leisurely over his head, casual in a way that doesn’t suggest he can already feel Vergil’s come sliding down his thighs. 

“Mmm, I think I’ll add this to my daily workout. What d’you think, baby brother?” 

Judging by the sound Vergil makes, Dante feels like he’s onto something.


End file.
